2014-05-01 - Riddle Me This: Shall We Play A Game?
It started with a simple bulletin post. A simple, unobtrusive bulletin board post. Buried deep within a barely used web ring, where traffic can be counted quite easily in the hundreds, if that, rather than the tens of thousands. The post itself is simple. It merely reads ”Do you want to play a game?” The message itself is unobtrusive, and appears to be a hyperlink. However, the keywords associated with it are unique. Engima. Riddle. Mystery. Mysterious is an appropriate term, for it seems that the userid used to create the post is a ghost. There is little to no digital footprint left. It is as if the post just appeared, using bizarre keywords subtle yet unique enough for someone who knows what they are looking for to find it. Normally, saying someone is a 'ghost' on the internet just means the government or corporate officials looking just aren’t looking hard enough. Almost everyone can be traced. So when Oracle sees something which she considers a ghost - that's saying something. The woman practically re-made the entire internet so this sort of thing can't casually happen. "Well what is this now?" she says to herself as she takes a sip of coffee. It's only been 22 hours awake, after all. It seems pretty clear that the method of how this link was hidden was itself some sort of statement. And that statement was 'if you can see this, you should click this link.' So... after putting up suitable protections and firewalls, she clicks on the hyperlink. The hyperlink opens, shifting to a secured website. The monitor sends the hub into a sickly green hue as re-coded algorithms come to life. However, to Oracle's keen eye, the code isn't malicious to her systems...even if the firewalls and protections were not up. It seems that a connection is being established elsewhere, forming a sort of web conference the moment the site is accessed. After mere seconds, a solid black question mark forms within the center of the green background, then shunts over to the upper right corner. A voice, male, speaks...the tone arrogant, condescending, and very familiar. "Well...it is about time one of you so-called investigators found my little welcome mat. I was afraid I was going to have to place advertising space in the Gotham Gazette to get a reaction." That voice...with the onset of the question mark, could only mean one person. Oracle leans back in her chair. "Riddler." she says to herself. She puts on the voice modulator and turns on a system to try to trace back the source while she listens to whatever the programmed response is going to say next, or to see if there's something needing to be pressed or some code needing to be activated to further the program. "Oh, how quaint. You're trying to find me." There is a low chuckle as the black question mark avatar slowly spins. "Really, that is a waste of time. I will be long gone before your program makes it through half of the sites I am routing my conversation to. You really think I would allow myself to be found when we have yet to play our game?" As the voice echoes over the speakers, a widget appears on the bottom of the website, resembling a basic chat button. "I would advise that you speak. Feel free to use whatever filters or modulation you desire. However, you may want to call off your search. I wouldn't want to cut our chance meeting so soon." Oracle murmurs to herself, "Keep saying that, Eddie." Then she says into the voice translators, "So, I'm guessing you give me some sort of convoluted riddle like breadcrumbs for me to follow?" She takes a moment. "What sort of game?" She doesn't turn off the trace. She does, though, send it through the Luthor stealth satellites instead of the normal routes. Who knows, maybe he's outsourcing help to do this. One can practically hear the smug expression that must be on the face of the man that calls himself Edward Nigma. "Well, well, well. I take it I have the exquisite pleasure of speaking to the modern day Delphi. It must be you, for the Batman wouldn't bother with translators...and his menagerie wouldn't think to use them." The voice goes silent, for a moment, then picks back up. "I was rather hoping to match wits with the Dark Knight, but I know you will relay the message." Nigma continues on. "Oh, it is a simple game. Think of it as hide and seek. I give the clues, you figure them out and see if you can find me." There is another pause of silence...then a cool tone. "You didn't stop the trace. Naughty naughty. That is cheating. And here I thought you would be worthy..." Oracle nods a bit. "Yes well... Batman needs to save his wits for greater challenges." she says, trying to goad Nygma a bit. Hopefully so he doesn't notice the trace still going. She frowns and turns off the trace. "Okay then. What's the first clue?" "Ah, splendid! So you are sensible after all." Goading Nygma seemed really to not work. It was as if he expected it. Of course, turning off the trace seemed to brighten him right up. Eddie takes his turn for mocking. "I will tell you what, oh great Oracle of the Modern Age. For actually finding my little corner of the virtual world, and for calling off your virtual bloodhounds when I asked politely, I will leave the clue right here for you to peruse at your leisure." Moments after Nygma's words fall from the speakers, a file appears on the left hand side of the screen, marked with a single question mark, a smaller version of the same avatar in the right hand corner. "Oh, I trust that you will share my little game with those of the Bat persuasion as well, so I will also be gracious and not purge this site from the face of the virtual world. However, I would advise you keep the address, for the post you used to join my game will no longer be accessible. Want to keep out the riff-raff, you know." Oracle hmphs. As if anything actually gets purged from cyberspace. He doesn't know about the underlying Internet 2.0. She doesn't share that bit of info, of course. Trade secrets, after all. She prints out the file that appears on the right hand corner, as she wonders who, if anyone, is helping Nygma with the programming half of this most recent scheme. She patches herself into Batman to leave him a message in case he's unavailable. As the message prints, Nygma's voice cuts through. "That's a good little seer. You just make sure that the overgrown winged rodent gets that message and we all shall have a little fun. Keep an eye open, my dear Oracle. You can be certain that I will keep my watchful gaze upon you and the Batman." With that, the spinning icon on the right hand side disappears, but not before the chat button widget shifts, reconfiguring into a voice recorder. It seems that Nygma is intending to let Oracle, and whoever she lets in, an opportunity to 'leave a message'. The message reads as follows: It is frequently said, though it is bittersweet, That those who do not learn from me are often doomed to repeat. What am I ? ---- eop qn kehx h yhfo, nahee vo? ouog pao fjnp npjbs jr topospbuon fqnp kehx jgso bg h vabeo. hee rjm pao nhdo jr dookbgy jqm vbpn nahmk, tjgp xjq pabgd? moheex, vo ahuo gjp kehxot bg nj ejgy pahp b vhn nphmpbgy pj pabgd xjq vhn fbnnbgy fo. gjv xjq dgjv pao mqeon pj pabn yhfo...cqnp ejjd rjm pao seqon hgt ahuo rqg! ----